Locked in the Mirror

Throw the Mirror

I find myself in emptiness, floating. Around me, there's darkness, and the only thing I see is a window showing my room. However, it's far away, and I can't reach it.

I also see my Reflection, which looks around contentedly with a terrifying smile. She casts one last glance in the mirror, smiling, and then approaches my bed, sliding under the red sheets.

At that moment, I tremble.

And I fall.

I fall forcefully downwards.

My heart, if I'm still alive, beats wildly beneath my chest.

Suddenly, a biting cold pierces my skin. My stomach churns, and I feel like I might vomit any moment now.

If I'm still alive.

My head meets the cold ground with force.

I feel terribly dizzy, making it hard to focus on the world around me.

I extend my hand and grope around. My palm finds a hard, cold surface. I grab onto it, and with a deep breath, I put strength into my arms and stand up. Immediately, an excruciating pain floods me, but I ignore it as the sight horrifies me completely.

I'm in the bathroom. My house's bathroom. Yet, its walls don't have that beautiful delicate mauve.

They're painted red.

Such a deep red that it starts to make anyone who sees it dizzy.

Suddenly, my memories flood my mind.

I lunge at the bathroom mirror and shake it. My hands scrape against the cold, smooth surface as my form reflects back at me.

That's when I realize how terrified I am.

The color has drained from my face. My features have pulled back, and intense black circles have formed around my eyes.

This can't be happening. It's not possible.

Panic begins to flood my body. My mind clouds as it can't process the events.

There's only one thought in my bewildered mind that gives even a glimmer of hope. The mirror I entered through.

I immediately turn around, grab the doorknob, and forcefully open it.

I stop in my tracks.

The hallway that I know so well is exactly the same. Nothing has changed. Neither the arrangement nor the colors.

I turn my head and look back at the bathroom.

Yes. Still red.

I rush to the door that leads to my room.

I open it and look inside. Everything is in place. Except for two things.

First, the bedspread on my bed, which always used to be a shade of red, is now a deep shade of purple. And second, the worst of all...

There is no mirror on the opposite wall.

It's vanished.

Cold sweat covers me. The, perhaps, only way of escape has disappeared.

I exit the room and head towards the staircase. I look at the walls, and a second shock pierces through me. The frames are filled with photographs. Some are mine, and others are my mother's, with... her ex-husband.

The one who assaulted her.

The one who made her life a living hell.

The one who, after growing tired of her, turned to me.